


it comes and goes in waves

by SaberK



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV), Thirteen Reasons Why - Jay Asher
Genre: Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 09:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10591608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaberK/pseuds/SaberK
Summary: Life after the tapes, however painful, goes on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-novel. Warning for mentions of past suicide and death.

Giving back the walkman, like most things in Clay’s life have become, feels like an excuse. What it’s an excuse for, he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s to get rid of the one thing he has that’s a physical representation of Hannah and all the things that come along with her memory now. Maybe it’s an excuse to see Tony — see one of the only other people who knows exactly what he’s feeling. Or maybe Clay’s frazzled brain is looking into things too deeply and there is no excuse. Maybe him giving back the walkman is simply because he has no more use for it now. Whatever the actual answer is, that’s what Clay chooses to go with when he get to Tony’s house. 

“You didn’t have to give that back you know.” He’s under the hood of his Mustang, just like he was the last time Clay was there. He remembers what Tony said to him last night, about his car always breaking down. He wonders if that's the reason he's always working on it or if this is Tony's own excuse to keep his mind off everything.

If it is, Clay wonders if it's working. 

From where he’s standing he can hear music coming lowly from the car’s radio. On the driver’s side seat there’s a walkman identical to the one in Clay’s hand, the only difference being that the one in the car is obviously new.

“Don’t really know what to use it for anymore,” Clay says, switching the walkman over to his other hand without thinking. He feels the sharp sting of it pressing into his cuts before he remembers they’re even there. Unbidden, he gets a flash of last night all over again. For a split second it’s almost like he can hear Hannah’s voice in his ears again, whispering secrets and directing him around town. 

_D-2 on your map, boys and girls. The driveway leading up to Tony’s house. That’s where Clay Jensen officially lost his mind._

_Wish I was alive to see that_.

And then he’s moving the walkman back into his uninjured hand and it stops. Hannah’s not there, but Tony is and his eyes have caught sight of the jagged slices going up Clay’s palm.

“What happened to you after I left?” Tony asks, eyes locking onto Clay’s and staying there. Clay feels frozen under his stare, so he takes those few seconds of stillness to wonder. What did happen after Tony left him at the corner of Courtney Crimson’s house last night? 

Him, wandering around with headphones in his ears and a walkman in his pocket, learning the real reasons behind Hannah Baker’s death. Spending the entire night so close to losing it, ending up at Eisenhower Park and watching the tips of the sun break through the trees from a top of the old rocket slide. Sitting there for ages listening to the empty static of the cassette until he finally found the will to get up. 

Is that the answer Tony is expecting to hear?

“I finished the tapes,” Clay says, as if that’s a real explanation. And after hearing what’s on those tapes, maybe it is. When he holds out the walkman for Tony to take, his hands are shaking. He didn’t feel it before, but now he can. It starts off like an itch under his skin, building up until he's like a live-wire just waiting to shock whatever is closest. 

Tony sighs heavily. “You really can keep it,” he says before stepping away from the hood completely. He weaves around the front of the car until he’s standing by the driver’s side door, directly in front of Clay. From this close he can see the small smudge of grease just under his jaw. He looks like he’s waiting for Clay to say something, but Clay doesn’t know what.

And then the house door is banging open and Clay’s heart feels like it just moved permanently up to his throat.

“You still out here, Tony?” His dad asks. He's leaning his back against the open door and it's like his eyes immediately fall on Clay. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he calls over his shoulder.

There's a pause just long enough for them to all catch it before he says, “Mom wants you in for dinner.” It takes Clay a few seconds to get his heart back under control and his hands to stop twitching, but when he does he finds Tony’s dad looking back and forth between Tony and him. “You joining us, Clay?”

It’s an honest question, but Clay can tell it’s not a real invitation so he jiggles the walkman in his hand and says, “I just came to drop this off actually.”

“I’ll be right in,” Tony says, finally turning around. His dad nods and steps back into the house and Tony shifts back to Clay a second later.

Now that Tony’s dad isn’t there to fill in the empty spaces of their conversation, they’re left standing in silence again. All Clay can hear now is the soft hum of the radio playing whatever Tony’s decided on. He spots the new walkman still lying on the seat, and Clay doesn’t even think before he’s leaning into the car’s open window and placing the old one right next to it. With his hands finally empty he feels exhausted all of a sudden, like all of those hours of not sleeping the night before has finally caught up with him. Then again, that’s kind of what Tony looks like too now that he thinks about it.

It hits him again that’s he’s not the only one who got those tapes, and there’s a quick moment where Clay thinks of stepping forward one more time, of asking Tony if he’s alright. But after last night shouldn’t he already know the answer to that? Tony’s hurting just as much as he is and there's no amount of 'are-you-okay's to make that go away. So instead, he smiles, thanks him, and then starts his way down the driveway. Clay might not be able to offer Tony any peace of mind, but the least he can do is get out of his hair for a little while.

“Clay,” Tony calls and his voice sounds different now. When he looks back he thinks he sees Tony’s knuckles go white, but Clay’s already turning and continuing to walk away so what does he know?

It takes him twice as long to get home than it normally would and when he finally does he heads straight up to his room. The sheets on his bed are perfectly made and his pillow lays untouched, just like they have been for the passed day and a half now. It's only been one day since Clay got the tapes, since he hasn't slept, but somehow it feels longer than that. He throws himself head first onto the bed, barely pausing long enough to kick off his shoes. 

The house is absolutely silent and behind closed eyes Clay sees the two walkman resting on the driver’s seat of Tony’s Mustang. He sees Tony too, white knuckled and watching him with a look he still doesn’t understand as he walked off. 

Even with the walkman gone now his mind still plays back the events of the last twenty-four hours. And then there it is again. The voice he hasn’t been able to get out of his head since last night. Hannah’s voice. 

_No more excuses_.

He doesn’t sleep at all that night either.

 

—

 

He only makes it another three days before he starts feeling like he's walking around with cinder blocks tied around his ankles. The backs of his eyelids burn and itch every time he blinks and he knows he looks just as tired as he feels. To avoid the worried looks that his mom thinks he doesn't notice, he starts leaving home an hour ahead of his usual schedule. He briefly considers coming back once the house is empty, but skipping school will only bring up more questions from his parents that he doesn't have the answers to. 

Today he carries a tall thermos that's filled to the brim with scalding coffee. It's fresh from the pot and too hot for him to drink now, but it warms his hands as he walks. Aside from not sleeping, that's another thing he's started doing now: walking. It takes him twice as long to get anywhere but it's cathartic in a sense. At the very least it gives him time to sort out the mess in his head a little more everyday, so he keeps at it. 

When he gets to school there's still fifteen minutes before the first bell rings but there are already cars parked in the lot. Most of them belong to the staff but there are some that Clay knows he's seen at the few parties he's attended. It's then that a sleek, silver car comes speeding into the lot. The tires skid loudly when they pull into a parking spot, leaving the smell of burnt rubber stuck in the air long after the engine stutters off and the doors swing open. Out steps Bryce Walker, Zach Dempsey, Alex Standall and Justin Foley. 

Clay’s seen them around a lot these days, almost always together like some twisted version of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. They’ve seen him too, it’d be impossible not to, but they’ve all done a good job at pretending like they haven’t.

Clay spares one last look before he begins making his way inside the school. As soon as the doors close behind him Clay hears another door open. 

“Clay, you’re here early.” Mr. Porter’s standing in the doorway of his classroom, smiling as if everything is right in the world. For him, maybe everything is. 

“Wanted to get a head start today,” Clay says, gripping the thermos tightly. It irritates the slow healing cuts on his palm, but it hides the way his hands have begun to tremble.

“Well, come in.” Mr. Porter steps aside, but Clay doesn’t move. There was a time once when Mr. Porter had been someone Clay had looked up to. Now every time Clay looks at him all he sees is the final nail in Hannah Baker’s coffin. He wonders if Mr. Porter’s gotten the tapes yet, if he's listened to his own. He wonders if he'll still be able to smile like that once he knows he was a reason a girl killed herself. Clay knows he hasn’t been. 

“Clay? Are you alright?” Maybe when Mr. Porter gets the tapes he’ll look back on this moment and he’ll understand just how ridiculous that question sounds to Clay.

But until then, he puts on a smile and says, “Just a little tired I guess.” Whatever Mr. Porter is thinking of saying stays unsaid, because the bell rings loudly a second later. It’s then that Clay finally moves, brushing passed Mr. Porter to get to his seat. 

And if he spends the entire period ignoring Mr. Porter in favor of staring at the seat that used to belong to Hannah, at least he stays awake. 

 

—

 

Clay spends the rest of the day after that feeling like a ghost floating through the halls. He can’t remember a thing he’s talked about in any of his classes and when the final bell rings he knows he looks all but dead on his feet. 

Today it takes him longer than usual to get his things from his locker. By the time he gets to the parking lot there are only two other cars, but there could have been fifty and Tony’s red Mustang would have still been the first thing to catch Clay’s eye. 

Tony’s inside the car this time, looking ten times more relaxed and put together than Clay feels. He doesn’t look away once as Clay make his way over to stand in front of his open window. 

“You need a ride a home?” Tony asks. His eyes dart to something just behind Clay before he drags them back. When Clay follows his gaze, it’s only then that he realizes Tony’s watching the same silver car from this morning. Even from this far away he can hear Bryce hollering inside it with the others. 

“Yeah, sure.” He rounds the car quickly and Tony barely waits until the door is closed behind him to press down hard on the gas. Clay hasn’t been in his car since the night with the tapes and watching Tony drive makes Clay feel like he’s reliving that moment all over again. Clay thinks if he concentrates hard enough he can still hear Hannah’s voice coming from the radio. 

“When was the last time you slept?” Tony asks quietly. They’re stopped at a light but Tony stays facing forward anyway. From this angle, Clay can see shadows under Tony’s eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. They're not as bad as his own, but it’s a gentle reminder to Clay that if anyone can relate to what he’s going through it’s Tony. 

“A few days.” Four, if he’s being exact, but he doesn’t think Tony’s looking for a specific number. “I can’t get her voice out of my head.” If Clay wasn’t already watching him as closely as he was now, he thinks he might’ve missed the way Tony’s hands tighten on the wheel. Clay wishes he knew Tony better, if only to be able to understand what the look on his face means. 

But he doesn’t, so instead he shuts his eyes, let’s his head rest against the window and mumbles, “Light’s green.” 

“Shit.” Tony doesn’t ask him anymore questions or take his eyes off the road again, but that’s okay. Clay can already feel the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. 

The next time Clay opens his eyes, Tony is slowing to a stop just outside of his house. The sun is starting to set, but it looks like he’s still managed to beat both of his parents home. 

He’s already stepping out of the car when he feels Tony’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Wait.” He watches as Tony leans into the backseat and swipes something up from the floor. When Tony turns back to him, all Clay can see is the old walkman in his hand. For a second, the only thing he feels is sick to his stomach. 

“I don’t…” Tony rolls his eyes, holding out the walkman for him to take the same way Clay had done to him a few days ago.

Tony sighs, but Clay thinks he looks amused rather than annoyed. “Just take it, will you?” So Clay does. “There’s a tape in there already. Let me know when you listen to it and try to get some sleep.” He nods numbly and then just like the night of the tapes, Clay’s left watching from the sidewalk with a walkman in his hands as Tony drives away. 

He drops his bag to the floor as soon as he reaches his room. The empty thermos inside it clangs loudly when it hits the floor, but he’s already too preoccupied with putting in the headphones connected to the walkman. He waits until he’s laying across his bed, eyes shut tightly, before pressing play. Clay doesn’t know what he was really expecting to hear on the tape. Maybe another message from Hannah that he somehow didn’t get the chance to listen to the first time around, maybe Tony’s own voice. But in the end it’s neither of those things. 

In the end, it’s simply a song. He doesn’t know the name, or even who it’s by, but he thinks he can remember Tony playing it in his car more than once during a time before Hannah. And isn’t that odd to think about? It’s hard for him to believe that anything existed before Hannah Baker, yet here he is listening to a song that drags along memories of exactly that.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there listening to the song, only that slowly, without him realizing it, the sun has set and all of the light slips out of his room.

‘ _I can’t get her voice out of my head_.’ That was what he had told Tony earlier, but he’s been lying there for hours and hasn’t heard her voice yet. He wonders if that was Tony’s intention the entire time. If giving him back the walkman was all a way at replacing Hannah’s voice with something else. Something nicer. If it was, Clay thinks it’s working. 

That night he falls asleep listening to the soft sounds of a song he can't name. 

He’ll have to thank Tony later.


End file.
